by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 7, 2022 | 2022 July, Poetry
I hear you brothers. I hear you sisters. of Basra. I hear your wailing criesover your children dying of cancer,over your dead rivers, over your charcoal skies that send the sun scurrying away ...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Sep 7, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
Rent apart by two serpents to create the world, her body became the earth and sky, hair, the trees and flowers; springs and fountains flowed from her eyes – humanity expelled with a grimace from her haunches: Only the blood of men could appease her for what she...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Jul 23, 2022 | 2022 May, Poetry
After walking a few yards you breathe like someone who has slipped across the border. I am ahead, you are far behind. There are no rest stops on this rocky path to the summit, no hedgerows to distract our lack of common interests or silences broken up with ums and...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 23, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
All is so diagnosed… those always the first sat down & not healthy in a tiny waiting room, waiting for a doctor they’re lucky to wait for. This is just our days… a little boy who loves books, (his mother reading them aloud)...
by Surosree Chaudhuri | Jul 22, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
for the dissonance of my heritage // for the fact that I was too hungry // for the consternation in your face when you saw the simmering celery, lime green instead of forest // for every name you have for me I am composting the congealed rice // for all of this I am...
by Junpei Tarashi | Jul 22, 2022 | 2022 June, Poetry
On SAWAYAMA, Rina is emblazoned in gold, eyes staring straight forward and bronzed nails tapping her lips andshe sings about excess, she is everything, she is paradise. When I was fourteen I went to a high school play for a date and watched Midasturn...
